Shylock, the despised Jew in The Merchant of Venice, passionately points out to the Christian elite the ridiculous nature of thinking that one group of people is superior or inferior to another: “I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands,organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, heal'd by the same means, warm'd and cool'd by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?” The culmination of the hatred meted out to the Jews was the holocaust. There are many other examples throughout history where a self-proclaimed superior race has killed thousands and millions of other people whom they deemed to be inferior. We know this has happened; we study it in our history classes. This superiority is a trait which is most often found amongst the empires and super-powers of the world. The British were clearly guilty of it, as were the Mongols, Ottomans, Romans and so on. Surely now, in an age of education, rationality and reason, we have learned from history and are not making the same mistakes all over again… right?
On the 26th May I listened to Start the Week on Radio 4. Robert Kagan, the chief advisor for John McCain, was on the programme discussing his new book. The discussion turned to the war in Iraq and Neil Labute, a fellow American and play-write, asked the following question: “Have things really gone as badly as projected?... Is there some sense that we look at 4000 dead and say ‘those are acceptable losses actually, in a war that has gone on for five years.’? Any other war that you mention, that we have been a part of, the numbers have been astronomical compared to that.” Did he just say 4000 dead? Knowing instantly that the death toll in Iraq was way above that I decided to do some digging… this is what I found.
The initial figure of 4000 was easy to find. At the time the interview was recorded a total of 4385 coalition forces had been killed in the Iraq war and occupation. As far as I remember from my maths classes, if you are going to round this number in any way, especially as it represents lives, the figure should be rounded up to 4500. So, why would the figure be rounded down to 4000? Well, if you subtract from 4385 the number of dead soldiers who were not in the US army the figure becomes 4075. The two Americans on the programme were judging the war according to the amount of American life lost! What about the other soldiers who have given their lives? What about the reporters who have been killed? What about the Iraqi civilians? When assessing the effectiveness of the war, shouldn’t these things be brought into consideration?
Let us consider just one of these; the acceptability of the war as regards civilians. There are, in just war theory, two ways in which a war can be considered just or unjust. The first is jus ad bellum or the justice of war. A war may be deemed to be just in this way if there is good reason for declaring war. This is (or has been until recently) limited to acts of international aggression or internal genocide on the part of a head of state or powerful aggressor. The war in Afghanistan, by this definition, may be considered just, whilst (and I hope we are beyond debating this point) the war in Iraq is clearly in breech of this parameter. The second measure of a just war is jus in bello or justice in war. This is judged by the way in which warring factions act within a war. Justice in this regard is achieved by focussing violence towards the military force of the aggressor and should limit any collateral damage. Even when ignoring the countless atrocities committed by the US and coalition forces against the people of Iraq it is clear to see how the war in Iraq is unjust in terms of jus in bello. The number of civilians violently killed in Iraq since 2003 as a result of the war is contestable. Moderate estimates place the figure between 80 and 150,000. The Lancet study suggests a much higher figure of 601,027 with a further 53,938 dying as result of poor healthcare and infrastructure; a less well published negative impact of war. This report, however, has received huge criticism for placing the figure so much higher than any other agency. Because of this I can’t really use their figures but why would I? After all, the Lancet is only one of the oldest and most historically accurate and reliable medical journals in the world. One thing that the Lancet did report which has not been contested is that at least 31% of the violent deaths are attributed to the coalition forces. Only 24% have been linked to ‘the enemy’ and the rest, reported as ‘unknown,’ would likely be distributed fairly evenly between the two.
Given this information is there any way that we can judge the war in Iraq to be acceptable? Can we say that the war on terror has been a measured response to the terrorist threat? Everything from the decision to declare war on Iraq to the attitude of the Soldiers and the disrespect they have meted out to Iraqi civilians demonstrates the danger of having a powerful nation which believes it is superior to the rest of the world. When researching the exact number of people who died in the 2001 attacks on the World Trade Centre I found the following:
TOTAL COUNT 2,976
minus foreigners - 236
AMERICANS 2,740
I just love how the font size and use of capitals changes to denote significance. While we are doing a bit of maths let me share with you a calculation I have made. If we take 115,000 (as a conservative estimate for the number of Iraqi civilians killed since 2003 because of the war), divide it by 100 and multiply it by 31 to work out the absolute minimum number of civilians killed by the US led coalition (35,650) then divide that by 6841 (the number of Americans killed in the World Trade Centre attacks plus the number of US soldiers killed so far in Iraq) we emerge with the number 5.2. The life of an Iraqi civilian, therefore, is valued at a fifth of an American life… the same value placed upon black slaves in America at the time of Independence.
Just as it is hard to blame the individual Christian for the hatred they felt towards the Jews, it is clear that American pride and superiority is the result of years of propaganda. If you preach and teach and promote and sell and defend and ‘prove’ a point enough, eventually a whole nation can be convinced that a lie is true. This, however, does not remove that nation from the consequences of its attitude and resultant actions. Shylock went on to say, “And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. The Villainy you teach me I will execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.” Empires rise when a people erroneously believe that they are superior to the rest of the world and use that belief to claim their dominance. It is this same illusion of superiority which eventually turns the rest of the world against, and leads to the downfall of, an empire. This process, however, as is clear with the collapsing empire of the USA, often claims the lives of many innocent people.
21 June 2008
14 June 2008
Man's Best Friend
The alien spacecraft have positioned themselves over the world’s key cities. People flee in their millions. In Los Angeles Will Smith’s girlfriend sits in traffic as the alien ship opens a hatch and launches its weapon: a high-energy beam of light which triggers a radiating surge of seemingly never-ending flame. Seeing the devastating explosion approaching in her rear-view mirror, Smith’s girlfriend grabs her child and dashes into the tunnel ahead. She manages to kick down a maintenance door and hide inside. With the few seconds she has between kicking down the door and the flames reaching her she could have herded as many of the thousands of people about to experience a fiery death into her miraculously safe hiding hole. What does she decide to do?
That’s right. We are all familiar with this scene from Independence Day. In the moment when a single person could have saved scores of human lives this person decides to save the life of her dog… and didn’t we all breathe a sigh of relief when we saw that the dog was safe and paid little or no thought to the countless human lives just lost? What relevance does this have to real life, you may be asking. Well, let me postulate.
We (the UK) own more than 7.3 million dogs! The cost of keeping a dog reaches thousands of pounds a year, yet we do it. Why? My Father’s wife has correctly noticed that not only are his dogs his best friends, they are his only friends. My in-laws have a beautiful golden retriever which has become part of the family, so much so that he is often included in family photos. What is wrong with this, you may ask. Well, in these two cases, probably nothing. My Father’s dogs not just his only friends, they are his guard dogs… he has 2 Rottweiler protecting his property in a remote part of South Africa. The money spent on my in-laws dog is easily over-shadowed by the money they donate to charitable causes. These justifications, however, are the exception rather than the rule. Most people own dogs as a luxury rather than as a necessity and pay out huge amounts of money in ensuring their dog’s well-being. It is often these same people who shudder at the thought of parting with any of their well-earned cash in the support of another human being through charitable organisations. Does this not make them just as accountable for the death and suffering of others as is the character from Independence Day described above? So why do we do it?
We develop an attachment to our animals. They are loveable pets with unique characters and we think of them as almost human. There is nothing wrong with this but surely there is something wrong with feeling less attached to others of our same species than we do to our pets. The philosopher Lecky described human concern as an expanding circle. We are initially concerned with our own well-being, then with that of our family, our class, our nation, neighbouring nations and then all humanity. Only when we are concerned about and engaged in ensuring the welfare of all of these should we then concern ourselves with protecting animal life. This seems to make sense to me but what is apparent is that many, mostly within affluent nations, have taken the final priority, animal life, and placed it after their family and before any other human-being. Despite our exposure to the poverty and suffering in the world (to which we belong and for which we are responsible) through the media we manage to feel sorrow but few of us feel any attachment or responsibility. Yet we are willing to create unnecessary attachments to and accept responsibility for a creature less worthy of our attention. While I do not doubt that animals have feelings I know that the thoughts and feelings of a human-being are deeper, more complex and more important than that of any other animal. While there is nothing wrong with forming emotional attachments to animals, such as dogs, can the time, effort and money expended on these animals be justified if we do any less for our own species, especially those who have little opportunity to raise themselves above the suffering of poverty?
Peter Singer, a philosopher from Australia (I hope I am not the only one who was pleasantly surprised that such a combination existed) uses the analogy of a drowning child to portray our responsibility to each other. He asks us to imagine we are walking to university or work and we see a child drowning in a shallow pond. Does the fact that there are others who could help closer to the pond than you are make your responsibility to help any less? No. Does the fact that you will get muddy and wet and no-doubt be late for work/university justify your inaction? Of course not. You are obliged to do all within your power to help that child. For a relatively insignificant cost on your part (soggy shoes, muddy trousers and an hour or so missed at work) you are able to make a hugely significant change in the life of another.
Independence Day may be fiction but there is some reality to it. We seem to value animal life more highly than we value human life. The cost of keeping a dog is significant yet 22% of British households decide to make that sacrifice. The cost of funding the digging of wells, the building of sanitation facilities, the teaching of effective irrigation practices, all of which preserve human life, is relatively insignificant yet we are reluctant to part with our money for such projects. I know/hope that I am not the only one who thinks that it is strange and immoral that some people are less likely to part with their money to benefit the life of another human being than they are to keep a pet.
That’s right. We are all familiar with this scene from Independence Day. In the moment when a single person could have saved scores of human lives this person decides to save the life of her dog… and didn’t we all breathe a sigh of relief when we saw that the dog was safe and paid little or no thought to the countless human lives just lost? What relevance does this have to real life, you may be asking. Well, let me postulate.
We (the UK) own more than 7.3 million dogs! The cost of keeping a dog reaches thousands of pounds a year, yet we do it. Why? My Father’s wife has correctly noticed that not only are his dogs his best friends, they are his only friends. My in-laws have a beautiful golden retriever which has become part of the family, so much so that he is often included in family photos. What is wrong with this, you may ask. Well, in these two cases, probably nothing. My Father’s dogs not just his only friends, they are his guard dogs… he has 2 Rottweiler protecting his property in a remote part of South Africa. The money spent on my in-laws dog is easily over-shadowed by the money they donate to charitable causes. These justifications, however, are the exception rather than the rule. Most people own dogs as a luxury rather than as a necessity and pay out huge amounts of money in ensuring their dog’s well-being. It is often these same people who shudder at the thought of parting with any of their well-earned cash in the support of another human being through charitable organisations. Does this not make them just as accountable for the death and suffering of others as is the character from Independence Day described above? So why do we do it?
We develop an attachment to our animals. They are loveable pets with unique characters and we think of them as almost human. There is nothing wrong with this but surely there is something wrong with feeling less attached to others of our same species than we do to our pets. The philosopher Lecky described human concern as an expanding circle. We are initially concerned with our own well-being, then with that of our family, our class, our nation, neighbouring nations and then all humanity. Only when we are concerned about and engaged in ensuring the welfare of all of these should we then concern ourselves with protecting animal life. This seems to make sense to me but what is apparent is that many, mostly within affluent nations, have taken the final priority, animal life, and placed it after their family and before any other human-being. Despite our exposure to the poverty and suffering in the world (to which we belong and for which we are responsible) through the media we manage to feel sorrow but few of us feel any attachment or responsibility. Yet we are willing to create unnecessary attachments to and accept responsibility for a creature less worthy of our attention. While I do not doubt that animals have feelings I know that the thoughts and feelings of a human-being are deeper, more complex and more important than that of any other animal. While there is nothing wrong with forming emotional attachments to animals, such as dogs, can the time, effort and money expended on these animals be justified if we do any less for our own species, especially those who have little opportunity to raise themselves above the suffering of poverty?
Peter Singer, a philosopher from Australia (I hope I am not the only one who was pleasantly surprised that such a combination existed) uses the analogy of a drowning child to portray our responsibility to each other. He asks us to imagine we are walking to university or work and we see a child drowning in a shallow pond. Does the fact that there are others who could help closer to the pond than you are make your responsibility to help any less? No. Does the fact that you will get muddy and wet and no-doubt be late for work/university justify your inaction? Of course not. You are obliged to do all within your power to help that child. For a relatively insignificant cost on your part (soggy shoes, muddy trousers and an hour or so missed at work) you are able to make a hugely significant change in the life of another.
Independence Day may be fiction but there is some reality to it. We seem to value animal life more highly than we value human life. The cost of keeping a dog is significant yet 22% of British households decide to make that sacrifice. The cost of funding the digging of wells, the building of sanitation facilities, the teaching of effective irrigation practices, all of which preserve human life, is relatively insignificant yet we are reluctant to part with our money for such projects. I know/hope that I am not the only one who thinks that it is strange and immoral that some people are less likely to part with their money to benefit the life of another human being than they are to keep a pet.
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